55
Milo grunted as a wall of solid ice snapped up in front of Fergus, shielding him from most of the blast. While he was pleased his grenade had worked, he wasn’t pleased with the result.
Absently, he considered a few adjustments he could make to improve it.
“Slippery,” Milo growled as the wall shattered.
Behind it, Fergus stood enraged. He had eyes only for Tania.
“Let her go,” he hissed. “Let her go, or I swear I’ll kill you in ways you wouldn’t believe.”
“Oh, I can believe a lot, buster,” Tania said.
“Fergus!” Fulka writhed in Tania’s grip. “Don’t think about me! Just get the core!”
He glanced at the Leveler. The staff for it was hung on the wall. He’d need to get the core, and get it to the staff. But Milo might shoot him in the back.
Or throw another of his explosive devices.
He wasn’t sure how many icy walls he could summon before running out of mana. Already he was getting low.
“Stop right there!” a voice snapped from behind them as a mage in a guard uniform stepped into the room.
Another stepped in beside him.
Both had rifles drawn.
Tania threw a hand out at Fergus. “He’s trying to steal the core!”
“All of you get on the floor,” the mage growled, trying to sound confident. “Now!”
“Blast it,” Fergus groaned. “I’m so close!”
“Hey,” the other mage called suddenly, his eyes on Tania. “What’s with your hand?”
“Ah.” She winced. “Ya weren’t supposed to notice that.”
Then she threw her other arm up, and the front of her forearm snapped open. Three darts shot out with a dull thump. Two hit the mage in the chest. The third buzzed into his shoulder.
He managed two breaths before the poison punched him to the ground.
In that moment, Fulka tore free of Tania and rolled across the ground, snatching up her rifle. She spun on her heel. Aimed.
And blew the other mage’s head off as he also pulled his trigger.
His round sizzled through the air and cut a deep slice across Milo’s ribs. He let out a yowl, dropping his rifle and clutching at the burn.
Fergus snarled, waving his wand. The core flared blue as a shard of ice spat through the air, aiming for Milo’s head.
But Tania threw herself in front of it, taking the shard to her belly.
She rolled, muttering curses as ice spread across her body with a loud heavy crunch.
“Get up, Milo,” she growled.
Fergus took a heavy step forward.
“Fergus!” Fulka dropped into a crouch and circled Tania like a shark. “Get the core. I got this.”
“But-”
“There’s more coming! Can’t you hear?”
He could now she said it. The heavy clatter of distant boots.
“Blast!” Fergus whirled and reached for the core. His mind was scattered. The pressure was almost too much. He couldn’t think straight.
On one hand he wanted to be there for Fulka.
Protect her.
Not let her protect him! A man should stand by his woman.
Not behind.
But on the other, he needed the core to balance it all out. And then there was the sound of boots. They sounded heavy. Coming fast.
“Blast everything.”
He turned to the core, still suspended. Reaching for it, he pulled it out of the container of magical energy holding it suspended. And breathed a sigh of relief as he lived.
Which meant he’d gotten all the wards.
That’d been the only risk he had.
Now all he needed to do was get the staff. Slot the two together.
And he’d be the closest thing to a god.
He took a step towards it, his mind swirling with fantasies of power and revenge too alluring to make him stop.
“I gotta know,” Fulka said as Tania rolled awkwardly to her feet. “Which of us is best. Haddrow rates me high. But you keep skipping his class.”
“Well.” Tania tore a chunk of ice off her abdomen, looked at the chunk, and dropped it. It shattered like glass. “What can that old good-for-nothing teach a gal like me? You wanna go first, sister?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Fulka darted into Tania, a knife in her hands. The knife cut a line just above the surface of Tania’s stomach. The golem had to twist herself awkwardly to avoid it.
“You’re quick,” Tania said grudgingly. “But I ain’t no oil can.”
Miles hissed in pain as he looked up to see the two engage in a blisteringly fast exchange of fists and feet. He tucked one hand up along the wound, feeling the raw skin under his shirt. The bolt had torn across the ribs.
It hurt just to breathe.
“Great,” he muttered. “More time in bed.”
There was a snick as Tania flicked her wrist to bring out her blades. She swept back at Fulka. The two of them moved like dancers in a dance which could only lead to death.
The clash of their blades was crisp. Sharp. Metallic.
Slowly, Milo picked up his rifle.
He checked the cartridge before he slid another square of ceramic from a pouch on his hip and started squeezing it. Slowly. Watching as Fergus approached the staff.
Fulka let out a frustrated hiss as Tania’s blade ripped across her stomach.
“Ya filthy toddler,” Fulka growled. Her gaze flicked to Milo. Then to Fergus.
“Don’t blame me for you being slow.” Tania grinned. “Admit it. This struggle ain’t for you, sweetie.”
“Slunge!”
Tania gave her a shocked look. “Why, you got some nerve calling me that!”
Fulka glanced at Milo again.
As Milo dropped the square into the black sphere. He tightened the cap.
Then he weakly tossed it at them.
Tania snatched it out of the air, grinning widely. “Ready to go boom, sister?”
Fulka snarled. “Go soak your head!”
She drove into Tania with a manic flurry of attacks that forced the golem to take a few steps back in surprise.
“You cheap old battle-axe! I’ll grind you up!”
Their blades sparked as they clashed.
“What? Battle-axe?” They both glared at each other in fury. “Why, I oughtta-”
Fulka’s knife drilled into her side.
“There.” Fulka smirked, looking up into Tania’s shocked eyes. “I knew you’d fall for all that pashy stuff.”
“You… Why, you slick little flap.” Tania looked down. “Ya stuck me one.”
Then she swept her arm to send Fulka flying. The young woman crashed hard on the ground near Fergus, who had the staff in his hand. She mewed in pain, rolling on her side.
Behind them, the source of the boots finally arrived as Selma stomped into the room. “Milo! Milo, am I late?”
“No,” he said. “I think you got here just in time.”
“There’s some guards right behind me. They look pretty mad.” Selma sounded happy. “Oh! Look, Milo. Look what I got!”
She lifted her grisly trophy, which made him wince.
Then she tossed it.
It bounced.
Once.
Twice.
It rolled almost all the way to Fergus’ feet before stopping. He stared in horror down at it. Jin’s sightless eyes stared back at him. His stomach roiled.
Feeling the anger growing, he looked from the decapitated head. To Fulka moaning beside him. Then to Miles.
“I’m going to kill you,” he said softly, slotting the core in place. “You fucking normie. I’m gonna kill you.”
Milo lifted his rifle as the first guards made it to the room, screaming.
Smiled.
And pulled the trigger.
The ice wall was almost a meter thick as it shot up in front of him. The mana bolt blew a crater into it but wasn’t enough to get through.
Mistress Vizzingbelle aimed a wand at Milo, who pointed a weary hand to the wall.
“Fergus,” Milo said through his teeth. “He’s gone crazy. He killed all those mages. We tried to stop him.”
Mistress Vizzingbelle lifted her eyes and saw through the ice as a bright red light lit up the room.
“Oh,” she breathed. “The Leveler.”
Milo blinked at her. “The what?”
Ignoring him, she jerked her head to the guards behind her and pointed at the wall. “Break through! Now!”
There were at least ten pyromancers pushing to the front. Fireballs exploded along the icy wall’s face. Melting it.
Cracking it.
Behind the ice, Fergus’ face was twisted with fury. He knelt beside Fulka and tried to pull her up.
Milo calmly loaded another cartridge.
Tania squatted next to him. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.”
“It’s a waiting game now.”
Selma sat cross-legged behind him. She was grinning from ear to ear. “Did I do good?”
“You did good.”
Selma leaned forward. “Why don’t you pat my head then?”
He shook his head but smiled. “Maybe later.”
“You’d better not welch on that,” she said.
“Milo ain’t no chiseler,” Tania said as the ice cracked. Another wave of pyromancers stepped up and put everything they had into breaking the thick wall.
Mistress Vizzingbelle glanced at Milo. “How many shots do you have left?”
“About five?”
“Save them,” she said.
“That bad?”
Mistress Vizzingbelle shook her head. “You have no idea what the Leveler can do.”